


someone to carry me home

by likebrightness



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Fluff, no queer ladies dying-athon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 13:19:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6908791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likebrightness/pseuds/likebrightness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They haven’t gotten to spend time together awake in a week and a half. All they’ve managed is a couple nights sharing a bed: a kiss good night when Lexa crawls into bed past midnight, only just back from the library; a kiss good morning when Clarke is up and out of bed before the sun, so she can catch the right light for her painting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	someone to carry me home

They haven’t gotten to spend time together awake in a week and a half. All they’ve managed is a couple nights sharing a bed: a kiss good night when Lexa crawls into bed past midnight, only just back from the library; a kiss good morning when Clarke is up and out of bed before the sun, so she can catch the right light for her painting. Clarke always tries to wake up when Lexa comes home, kiss her a little longer, but she just ends up asleep, half on top of her. Finals are still another week away.

The ninth time Anya tells Lexa to get a grip and get laid so she won’t be so stressed out, Lexa calls Clarke.

“Babe, hey,” Clarke picks up. “I can’t really talk, I’m—”

“Can I make you dinner tonight?”

Clarke takes a moment to respond. “I’d love that, but I have to…”

She drifts off. If Lexa weren’t so distracted by her own work, she’d know what Clarke’s doing that’s taking her focus—when it’s not right before finals, Lexa knows her schedule pretty well.

Clarke never picks up where she left off, too busy doing whatever she’s doing on the other end of the line.

“Clarke,” Lexa says. “Please. I miss you and Anya thinks it’s affected my reasoning skills.”

That makes Clarke laugh aloud, and Lexa’s heart takes flight. She wonders if she’ll ever get used making Clarke laugh, if her body will ever stop reacting like she’s just crested a hill in a roller coaster. It’s been eight months and still her heart races every time.

“Okay. Yeah, dinner would be great,” Clarke says. “At your place?”

“Seven?”

“Seven,” Clarke agrees. “I love you, babe, I miss you, too. I gotta go, though.”

Clarke stays on the line long enough to hear Lexa say, “I love you, too,” and then she’s gone.

-

Clarke shows up with her backpack, teeters a little with the weight as she takes it off.

“I thought maybe I could work on my paper here,” she says. “After dinner? ’Cause I miss you.”

“Of course,” Lexa says immediately.

Clarke grins, and Lexa already feels less stressed than she has in weeks.

-

Dinner is a quick affair. Clarke powers through the chicken breast and roast potatoes, stopping every few bites to talk about how good it is.

“Seriously, you’re such a good cook. I’m not good with, you know,” she waves her hand around vaguely, “spices.”

“I made extra,” Lexa says. “For you to take for lunch tomorrow, because I know you’ve been trying to live off pop tarts.”

Clarke beams at her. “I’m gonna kick this paper’s ass so I can thank you properly tonight.”

-

Clarke finishes by ten. Lexa should keep working on her flash cards, but the second Clarke closes her laptop, Lexa can’t focus on anything else.

Clarke stretches. Lexa is pretty sure she’s trying to be sexy; it works, even though she ends up yawning at the end. Her legs are straight in front of her on the couch. She slides down a little so she’s mostly lying down, and looks over at Lexa.

“Wanna join me over here?”

Lexa doesn’t even mind that her notebook falls to the floor in her haste.

Kissing Clarke is wonderful. It feels new, every time, while simultaneously feeling like her favorite pair of jeans, soft and worn in. They kiss syrup slow. Lexa decides she doesn’t care if she gets a B if it means she can do this longer.

Clarke breaks away from her with another yawn. “I’m sorry,” she says. “My body must know this is my napping couch.”

“Your body should remember we’ve done a lot more than sleep on this couch.”

Clarke giggles and kisses her.

It’s only a few seconds until she yawns again, though.

“Okay,” she says. “Okay, I just need to not be lying down and I’ll be fine.”

Lexa is never going to argue with Clarke saying she has to be on top.

They rearrange so Lexa is sitting on the couch, Clarke above her, one leg on either side of Lexa’s. Sometimes Lexa wishes she were the artist, because she wants to capture Clarke in times like this—her hair a halo of gold, her eyes so blue Lexa thinks they might have to invent another color, just for them. Clarke smiles, and Lexa swears she could dedicate an entire gallery to this girl.

Clarke stays alert this time; they kiss and they kiss and she never stops to yawn. She grinds her hips down and Lexa grins into her mouth. Lexa kisses up under Clarke’s jaw. Clarke tilts her head and Lexa can feel her throat vibrate with a moan.

Lexa is gentler than she might otherwise be, slower. She wants to savor it. Usually Clarke likes it when she goes slow, but Clarke isn’t as responsive as usual. Lexa bites, experimental, and Clarke doesn’t even moan. When Lexa pulls back to look at her, Clarke’s head droops onto her shoulder.

She’s asleep.

She’s actually _asleep_.

Lexa wants to be offended, but Clarke breathes hard through her nose, not quite a snore but close enough, and Lexa doesn’t have any control over how much she loves her.

Lexa positions Clarke’s arms over her shoulders then gets her hands under Clarke’s thighs. She hasn’t made it to the gym nearly as much as usual this week, but she manages to stand, holding Clarke to her like a goddamn koala bear wrapped around a tree. Lexa _really_ wants to be annoyed, but Clarke tightens her arms around her. Lexa’s hopeless, and she knows it.

She carries Clarke to her bedroom, figures she’ll come back to clean up her notes and turn off the lights. Clarke feels so nice, even if Lexa’s arms are straining a bit by the time they reach the bed. She tries to set Clarke down gently.

Clarke doesn’t go easy.

Instead, she doesn’t let go, clings harder—suddenly—when Lexa tries to pull back. Lexa didn’t expect it, and ends up tumbling into the bed along with Clarke, barely manages not to drop all of her weight on top of her.

That rouses Clarke slightly.

“Babe,” she murmurs, blinking her eyes open. Her voice drops low when she says, “Trynna take me to bed?” but she’s got a dopey smile on her face instead of the smirk that would usually accompany such flirting.

“Go back to sleep, Clarke,” Lexa says, trying to get up.

Clarke holds tight. “You, too.”

Lexa leaves the lights on all night.


End file.
